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flametrashiraarchive · 10 months

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The Wind and Wisteria: Chapter 2.

Read Chapter 1 here

Content guidance: NSFW. Rough sanemi. Canon-divergent. Kyojuro is alive but very wounded after the Mugen Train mission (Sanemi went with him on it)

Your house has never been this busy before. There are demon slayer corps members everywhere, running back and forth, shouting orders, making way for you and the doctor as you head to the room where the wounded hashira has been taken.

Your heart is thumping in your throat as you slide open the door and prepare for the worst.

But it's not Sanemi.

This hashira has bright flame-colored hair which is currently caked in blood. His left eye is smashed, his face half obscured by blood. You can barely even see the man beneath the injuries, but there's no doubt he's the Flame Hashira, Kyojuro Rengoku. He's stayed with you before; a sweet, friendly man who filled your house with laughter whenever he visited.

And thank god he's unconscious, because how he's still alive with those injuries you'll never understand.

The doctor hurries to perform emergency surgery on the gaping wound in his torso. "I need to stem the bleeding. We need to keep him alive no matter what."

You feel useless as you watch the doctor and the slayer corps' medics work. This poor man…

You feel terrible for thinking it, but as much as you hate seeing Rengoku like this, you're so damn glad it isn't Sanemi. Seeing him in that state… God, you can't even imagine how awful that would be.

Someone brushes by you as you linger in the doorway. It takes you a second to register who it is.

Your heart leaps.

That white hair, the scars, the green hashira uniform which is almost as covered in blood as the man on the bed. Sanemi…They must have fought side-by-side on the same mission.

You can only watch, conflicted and frozen as Sanemi pulls off his belt and puts it between the wounded hashira's teeth so he has something to bite down on as the doctor works.

A moment later, and despite the painkillers injected into his system, the flame hashira regains consciousness and starts to cry out in agony, the sound still ear-splitting even with the belt in his mouth. Sanemi, along with a handful of Kakushi are holding him down but it's hardly enough to contain him. Before you have time to think you're in the thick of it, gripping the flame hashira's hand and offering the only thing you can: words of comfort.

"It's okay, it's okay, Lord Rengoku," you say softly as the doctor tries to close his gaping wounds. You put your hand on his forehead and smooth back his fiery hair. "You're safe. I promise you'll live through this."

The flame hashira's remaining gold and crimson eye stares up at you, silently pleading. He stops crying out but his grip on your hand is ferociously strong. You can almost feel your bones creaking, threatening to give way and snap.

You keep talking to him. “You’re going to be okay. You’re going to get better and then I’m going to cook that shrimp tempura you loved so much the last time you came here. Remember? You ate forty seven shrimp that day.”

The flame hashira nods, screwing his good eye shut as he endures the pain.

Sanemi finally speaks. "Breathe, Kyojuro. They're closing the wound. It'll be over soon."

It takes an agonizingly long time. It feels as though hours crawl by as the doctor closes every wound, cleans and dresses it. By the end of it, the flame hashira is barely clinging to consciousness.

"Thank… you…" Rengoku murmurs as the doctor injects him with yet more painkillers. His golden gaze turns to you. He smiles and closes his eye. His hand in yours has softened, but he holds onto you still as you keep on stroking his hair. It seems to soothe him.

Sanemi's purple eyes burn into you as he watches you. "Let him rest." He barks it like an order, as if you're keeping the flame hashira awake against his will instead of successfully giving him comfort. There's no way you're going to stop. The wounded man even turns his head a fraction toward you as he sleeps, leaning further into your touch.

"I was starting to think I'd never see you again," you say to Sanemi, your gentle tone betraying the fact that you're glad. Despite everything, you're glad to see him.

"I had no intention of coming back. I didn't have a choice." Sanemi's glare slips down to your hand. His lips curl into a snarl. "Stop petting him like a damn dog and let the man rest."

Kyojuro turns his head away; though whether it's away from your hand or the sharply hissed words, you can't tell. Still, you stop your stroking and let go of his hand.

The bones in your hand are throbbing from being squeezed for so long. It suddenly occurs to you that in the shock and adrenaline of what happened, you're being a terrible host. The exhausted kakushi who serve the demon slayer corps are scattered around the house, resting, and you haven't even so much as offered them a drink of water.

It gives you a good excuse to get away from Sanemi too. So that's how you spend the rest of the day; hosting, cooking, preparing beds, thanking the demon slayer corps for their tireless efforts. And it works. You barely even see Sanemi, other than to bring him a cup of tea and a plate of onigiri to the private room he's taken temporary residence in. He doesn't even turn to face you as you bring his meal.

"Thank you." He's polite enough, but his tone is closed and cold, as if you're nothing to him.

Nothing but a hole he used to enjoy filling, but not anymore.

When evening comes around, and most of your guests are sleeping, you can't hold back from going into the room where the flame hashira rests, just to check on him. You're still shaken from the events of the morning and you want to see him for your own peace of mind.

It seems Sanemi couldn't keep away either. He glares at you from beside the bed. "You're not needed here."

You ignore him. It's your house, after all.

The doctor is still sitting by the bed too, so you direct your question to him. "Will he live?"

The doctor's mouth opens and closes a few times, and you know he's struggling to piece together an answer. It's still uncertain.

You step closer to the sleeping man and watch the slow rise and fall of his chest.

"He's strong. He'll pull through," you say, trying to give yourself a little comfort.

The doctor sighs. "We can only hope."

Despite your best efforts to block him out, your eyes momentarily slide to Sanemi.

God, you hate the way your body reacts to the sight of him. Your foolish heart leaps. There's still a deep longing for him, even after everything. A cruel ache coils between your thighs as your treacherous pussy remembers just how much it misses him.

He's terrible, you remind yourself; an asshole, a certified shithead. Then again, you are making eyes at him across the sleeping body of his mortally wounded comrade.

His lips are down turned, his purple eyes fixed on yours with such a look of pure disdain you're almost convinced he can hear your inappropriate thoughts.

Heat creeps across your cheeks so you distract yourself by looking down at the flame hashira and pulling in a deep, calming breath.

Finally you say to the doctor, "Can I get you anything?"

The doctor shakes his head. "No, thank you. I've done what I can for today. I'm heading home, but if you need anything or his condition changes, send for me."

You bow in thanks and leave the room without a second glance toward Sanemi.

You've made it to the kitchen when Sanemi's voice cuts through the air at your back. "Hey, come back here."

You spin around to see him standing there in the doorway. "What do you want?"

You know instantly, because he's looked at you this way so many times; like he's pissed off at the entire world and he needs to claw back something good. He's covered in scratches and bruises. The man has been through hell and back. He needs something to take the edge off. And that something just so happens to be you.

Your heart rate spikes.

There's nothing between you and Sanemi but silence, resentment, and blistering heat. You shouldn't do this. You're pissed at him, remember?

But you release a shaking breath and nod.

He grins and slides the kitchen door closed. He's on you in an instant, turning you around and bending you over the countertop and yanking your skirt up to your hips. His breath is hot and harsh against your ear as he slips his rough fingers between your slick folds.

"So damn wet already. You missed me, huh? You missed this?"

You grit your teeth but your admission comes out anyway. "Yes."

"No one else can fuck you like I can." There's a jealous, possessive edge to his words as he puts a hand between your shoulder blades and keeps your chest pinned to the counter as he pumps two thick fingers into you. "No one."

God, you can't stop your back from arching as he thrusts those fingers into you. "God… it's only you, Sanemi."

He pulls out his fingers and cups your pussy in the palm of his big, rough hand. His lips brush against your ear as he growls, "Say that again." His fingers start to slide over your clit in slow, teasing circles. You feel the fat head of his cock replace his hand, pushing against your entrance. "Say you're mine. No one else's."

"I'm…" You tell yourself not to get carried away. You're not his. He walked out on you for months for having the audacity to request that he face you while fucking you. He called you a hole to fill, for goodness' sake.

A tingle crackles down your spine as he pushes into you, bottoming out with a snap of his hips and a hissed "ffffuck," against the back of your neck.

"You're what?" He leans into you, pressing you harder against the counter. His lips move down the side of your neck as he starts to thrust into you, all the while still strumming your clit. "Say it."

His lips feel so damn good on your neck, his fingers and cock feel heavenly on your cunt. For all his faults–of which there are plenty–Sanemi knows exactly how to pleasure you quickly.

You gasp. “I’m…”

“Say it, dammit.”

It’s too much, too good, you can’t hold on. “I’m… going to come–”

“The fuck you are.” He withdraws his hand, leaving you hanging on the edge of ecstasy.

A desperate whine leaves your lips. He stops thrusting, just letting his cock stay buried in you as your pussy clenches desperately around him.

"One last chance," he says.

You rest your head on your forearms, gasping and trying to stay upright as your legs tremble beneath you.

A moment later he pulls out of you and turns you around so your ass is against the counter. Sanemi’s face is just inches from yours. You’ve never seen his face so close to you before.

He grasps the back of your head, glaring at you with those wild eyes as his lip curls. His breath fans across your lips.

You want him and want to hate him so damn bad you can hardly breathe.

He growls and pulls back. “Just say it. Why are you being so damn stubborn?”

“You want me to lie to you?”

He chuckles. “Lie? No. I want you to mean it. You're mine, okay? I want you to look me in the eye and tell me you are.”

"Why? I'm not even a person to you, just a hole, right?" It just comes pouring out of you.

His eyes widen and his mouth opens around as he pulls in a silent gasp, as if he's shocked by his own words coming out of your mouth.

"Well?" You push. Your heart is pounding now. "Say something."

He looks away, "Fuck, I'm… sorry. I don't think that. I was wrong for saying it."

"So why did you?"

"Because I was… look, I said I'm sorry." He tries to turn you back around, but you stand firm. "Come on. Let me make you come. You know we're at our best like this."

"How would we know? We've never been anything else."

"Ha, like you'd want to be anything else with an asshole like me."

Your heart is thundering. "Well…what if I did?"

Any trace of arrogance or aggression on his face disappears and makes way for something you never expected to see on Sanemi’s face.

He looks… afraid.

It’s only a fleeting vision, one which you second guess as soon as it fades, because how can Sanemi Shinazugawa–a man who prides himself on his scars and his reputation as a ruthless asshole–ever look that soft and vulnerable?

You’re so blindsided, you don’t even notice him moving toward you until his lips brush against yours.

The world stops.

He kisses you like he’s scared you'll shatter if he pushes too hard; softer and gentler than a breeze, hardly allowing his lips to touch yours. His rough hands are so gentle; one at the back of your neck, the other on your cheek as he strokes his thumb along your cheekbone.

His kiss sends lightning crackling down your spine and your body immediately floods with more need than you've ever felt before. Your hands slide up his neck to cup his face, your fingertips brushing the edge of his silvery hair as he moans softly against your lips.

When he pulls back, he looks into your eyes like he’s dangling above an abyss and you might cut the rope at any second. He lets go of you and steps back as if his own actions shocked him. "Shit."

"Sanemi…" you whisper, your mind racing a million miles per minute.

"I'm sorry. I… When I saw you taking care of Kyojuro, stroking his hair, reminiscing about the time you'd spent together, I couldn't…" He takes a deep breath and shakes his head. "I wanted… I felt…fuck."

He's still as inept at expressing himself as ever.

"You were jealous?"

He looks away from you, his jaw wound so tight you can see the muscle in his cheek fluttering. He nods.

"Sanemi-"

"I know. I know… I'm disgusting. Kyojuro is fighting for his damn life and here I am…"

In your tangled, frantic thoughts, only one urge remains clear and constant, so you take a step toward him and say it. "Kiss me again."

Those words clearly catch him off guard. His eyes widen again, but then the corners of his mouth curve and his gaze softens. He takes a step toward you.

And then he stops.

"I can't."

"Sanemi…"

"I. Can't."

He leaves the kitchen without another word, leaving you with a thousand unanswered questions and the torturous tingle his lips left behind.

Chapter 3

#kimetsu sanemi #sanemi smut #sanemi x y/n #sanemi x reader #sanemi x you #kimetsu no yaiba sanemi #demon slayer sanemi #sanemi is bad at feelings #someone please hug him

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